I Hate You
by setFIREtomyHEART
Summary: “I…hate…you…” he tried, pushing Malfoy back against the wall and entangling his fingers in his white blonde hair. HPDM, chapter three up!
1. Chapter 1

Harry sat, cloaked in shadow, on a bench in a small London alley. It was in a decrepit part of town, where the rooftops nearly merged in the sky, with hookers on every street corner no matter the time of day; their makeup running and making them look like a Virgin Mary crying tears of blood in the August heat. He could hear low voices around the corner, most likely negotiating a drug deal. Surprisingly, it was almost cold in the alley, and the cool coming from month-old rain-puddles was chilling Harry to the bone, causing him to pull his shabby disguise cloak closer around him. He pulled out a watch that had long since lost its band from an inner pocket and checked the time. He frowned. _He's late_, Harry thought, annoyed. _He always cuts through this alley after his meetings._ His frown deepened. _Maybe something went wrong. _

Everyday, Harry sat in this alley at precisely three o'clock, waiting for Draco Malfoy, former Hogwarts student and now junior Death Eater, to exit his daily assignment-meeting and walk through the door on his left. Harry would then follow him for the rest of the day, gathering information about Voldemort's next move. Harry loathed this task. He would rather be pursuing the Horcrux, taken by the mysterious R.A.B., whoever that was. However, he was forced to this task, bodily this morning, as Remus had very nearly tossed him out the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He was also forced to continue school, no matter how many doors he slammed or how many shrunken house-elf heads he threw at people. _It was just as well_, thought Harry grudgingly, _I can't take another glare from Mrs. Weasley._ He hated his task almost as much as he hated Malfoy himself. Every time he stepped out the door to Harry's left, he was either toadying up to his superiors or putting down his underlings. Sometimes, Harry felt like dragging him into the shadows and bloodying-up Malfoy's handsome face. Wait… handsome? Where had _that_ idea come from? Harry's brow furrowed further, sure to give him frown-lines later in life. He felt like pacing. He was about to fall through this stupid rinky-dink bench anyway. The planks were rotted and creaking, and had bite marks from rats. The very thought of those little beady eyes shining on him now, even in near-daylight, gave him the shivers.

**He is quite handsome**… whispered a little corner of his mind. Harry shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

I must be going crazy… 

**Bisque-white skin, luscious white-blonde hair, deep grey-blue eyes, pink, full lips, ones you want to touch just to see if they're real**…

_Crazy…_

Just as Harry was trying to sort through these mind-muddying thoughts, Draco Malfoy swept through the door like he was the Dark Lord himself, flipping his hood up to cover his face. He was alone today, and his mood was not pleasant. Harry could see it in the way he stomped down the alley, and the way his hands were curled into fists at his side. _There goes the boy who ruined your life_… Harry had thought about that before, about how it was Malfoy who fixed the cabinet which allowed the Death Eaters to enter the castle and ruin his life forever. Now he felt a rage coming forth like nothing he had ever felt, not even when Snape had insulted his father. Instead of simply following him for the rest of the day, Harry waited in the shadows, like a demon, until he reached a conveniently deserted side alley. As soon as Malfoy passed through a shadow, Harry grabbed him by the arm, pulling him further into the darkness. Malfoy panicked at first, then wrenched himself free, stumbling slightly. Harry hung back in the dark, now unsure why he was doing this. Malfoy stepped slowly back, trying to let his eyes adjust to the shadow of the alley. He recognized his attacker at once.

"What the hell do you want?" He said angrily, righting his robes, which had become off-centered in the tussle.

"What do you think you're up to?" Harry countered, stepping out of the gloom. "I've been following you for a month. I should arrest you right now." Malfoy drew up, the 'Look'; the smirk/snarl that Harry was certain was a family trait, painted on his face.

"You have no proof." It was true; he had seen him talking with people he knew were Death Eaters, but none who had been confirmed. Harry gripped the wand in his pocket; he was literally itching to curse the Slytherin into oblivion. Malfoy noticed, with cool indifference, that Harry was looking like he was preparing to jump on him, and said, "Knut for your thoughts, Potter? Do tell." Harry raised his other hand and pointed it at Malfoy's face. Malfoy remained the picture of unconcern.

"You are the most pig-headed, boot-licking, I'm-so-superior _asshole_ this side of Europe. But I won't give you the satisfaction of being the biggest asshole in all of Britain, because I know that's most-likely your goal." The 'Look' crumbled and fell like the Berlin Wall. Malfoy's cheeks were quickly becoming a becoming a luminous pink color, and if looks could kill, Harry would have been shot, strangled, dropped from the Tower of London and repeatedly kicked in the crotch. He stepped closer, and Harry could feel his hot, angry breath on his face. From a detached portion of his mind, Harry noted that it was making him swoon with the thoughts it created.

**Just reach out**…

**Just a quick touch**…

_Stop it. No_…

"Well you're the most overbearing, I'm-so-alone, its-all-about-me, tragic hero _prick_ this side of the Northern Hemisphere! Maybe if you'd have realized that to be in Gryffindor doesn't make you God of Hogwarts, I wouldn't have gotten so slaphappy and gone against my beliefs! Open your eyes, Potter! I'm doing this entire butt-kissing routine because I'm planning to report to McGonagall! My father's in jail and only cares to have a trophy family. It's convenient when he needs a background! I thought he cared about me, and that's why I tried to protect him by joining the Dark Lord. I also joined because in first year, I was trying to be a friend like my father taught me how, and you pushed me away because you didn't realize I didn't know how to make friends. You made fun of me, insulted me, and generally treated me like a nuisance. I hate you!" He finished, drawing an eye-opening monologue to a close, spitting out the word 'hate' like venom.

**He's absolutely beautiful when he's angry**…

They were nose to nose, throwing insults back and forth like hexes, unable to curse each other because their hands were too tightly clenched to draw their wands. Harry suddenly realized how close they were, he could feel Malfoy's breath on his face. Malfoy was silent, just staring at him with some unidentifiable expression on his face.

_What's he doing_?

_What _is _he doing_?

Malfoy pressing his lips against Harry's own and Harry noticed with something akin to wonder that his lips were really as soft as they looked. He kissed him back roughly, rougher than he would a girl, for reasons he didn't quite understand.

"I… hate… you…" he tried, pushing Malfoy back against the wall and entangling his fingers in his white-blonde hair. "Why… can't I…" he tried again, but was silenced by Malfoy-

**_Draco, his name is Draco_**…

suddenly gentle, putting a finger to his lips.

"Just… don't think…" Draco said, nuzzling his face in Harry's neck and planting a kiss. Harry's breath sucked in sharply, his fingers tightening in Draco's hair. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, grabbing a fist-full of his shirt and pulling him closer. And he didn't think, not about the implications of what was going on, not about if anyone would come upon them making-out in a notorious London back alley. The only thing that was forefront in his mind was

_Draco, Draco's skin, soft and porcelain white, Draco's hands whispering down his back…_

The rational side of Harry's mind suddenly realized what the Hell he was doing. He pulled back, his face violently pink and gasping for air, for reality. Maybe this was a dream. A really weird, twisted, dream. He pinched himself. Ouch, that hurt. This couldn't be real….

Draco looked at him, almost pleadingly. As he stepped out into the light, Harry could now see he hadn't been sleeping well. He was much paler than usual; he had dark circles under his eyes and his cloak hung loosely from his back, like a dark angel's wings. Was this how Lucifer looked as he was cast out of heaven? Was he sleepless like Draco, wondering if he had done the right thing?

"Why can't I hate you?" Harry moaned, casting his hands together in a supplicant gesture. "No matter how many times I say it, I look at you…" Harry could feel a lump in his throat. "I look at you and… I know I'm lying." Harry approached Draco slowly.

"Why do you have to hate me?" said Harry, knowing full-well that he himself had spent the better part of his years at Hogwarts hating him back. But right now, that feeling was beginning to ebb away like the tide against something written in the sand. A new emotion was coming forth. Pity. Empathy. After all, he too knew what it felt like to be shunned and unwanted in the place you call home. "You said you had information for Professor McGonagall?"

Draco nodded slowly, painfully. Harry held out his hand for Draco to shake and informally pledge himself to the Order until he could be sworn in formally. He stared at it then, swiftly, he shook it firmly. He looked Harry in the eye, his mouth set in a firm line. Then again, his face crumbled, and his insecurities showed once more.

"You look tired. Maybe you should sleep before we go see everyone," said Harry gently. Draco smiled gratefully at him. "So you look a bit better."

"Do I really look like the living dead?" asked Draco with a wry smile.

"I probably look just as bad." said Harry. "I haven't been sleeping well, either." And, defying all reason, Harry planted a soft kiss on Draco's cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry let Draco carry on for a minute, revelling briefly in the soft texture of the blonde's fine hair, before pulling back.

"You need rest," said Harry gently , running a hand through his own hair to straighten it out. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "Don't argue. You look like hell."

"Oh, and _you're_ the picture of refreshed?" he retorted, but there wasn't any venom in it.

"Okay, so I could use a nap, too," Harry amended. "So, we'll go back to my place."

"Where, exactly, is it?" asked Draco suspiciously, "It's not your headquarters, is it?" Thankfully, it wasn't. Harry, even after a year to heal from Sirius' death, could only stay in the Order's headquarters long enough for a meeting. He had, after enduring many outraged comments from Mrs. Weasley, purchased his own place a few blocks down, which Professor McGonagall had put wards upon herself.

"No, it's not," said Harry, and after a few moments of hesitation, Draco joined Harry beside a dumpster. "Here, grab onto me, since you don't look up to Apparating." Draco agreed, and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. "Okay," said Harry, "one-two-three-" On 'three', he Apparated, eyes tightly closed as he felt the still unnerving feeling of being run through a tiny tube.

He quickly regained the ability to breathe, and opened his eyes to see his living room couch, which he noticed detachedly was starting to sag after only a month of use. To his left were the small kitchen with lousy appliances that came with the flat and a bench with the stove and sink in the middle. To his right were two doors, one to Harry's room and one to the bathroom. Draco broke the silence.

"Beautiful. It's almost neo-grandma, with a touch of Helping Wands." Referring to the organization that gave out magic supplies to underprivileged wizards.

"Any more comments like that and I'll put you to sleep without the aid of magic," threatened Harry, only partly in jest. He pointed to the couch, which sported an ugly pattern of stripes and polka dots. "Now, go take a nap." Draco took a long survey of Harry, and the look on his face made Harry blush slightly. The blonde walked over and lay on the couch, striking a sarcastically seductive pose.

"Not unless you join me,." said Draco, grinning. Harry knew that if he joined him they would get no sleep at all, and they needed to be rested before the Order meeting. Many of the members would be shooting hostile glances and comments at them both. Draco saw his hesitation. "I won't put the moves on you. Promise." Harry sighed, then joined him on the couch, which gave a thunderous creak that startled them both. "It's not going to break in half, is it?" whispered Draco, as if talking loudly would make the couch more susceptible to cracking.

"No, this couch may be rubbish, but it's not going to break." said Harry. They were silent for a while, and Draco thought that Harry had fallen asleep, until he spoke again, "Not to pry or anything, but when did you decide to come to our side?" Draco sighed and unconsciously scooted closer to Harry.

"I guess I truly decided during the battle at Hogwarts," he began, his lips brushing Harry's ear, and Harry found he had to concentrate to hear Draco's words. "I mean, before, when I had to do things, like plan an attack or insult Gran-er, Hermione, I'd get this metallic taste in my mouth. I guess I always knew instinctively that it was wrong, but I thought that if I tried to help or even backed off the insults a bit, my father would find out. I guess I was pretty damn paranoid."

"Did he… hurt you?" said Harry, afraid of the answer.

"No, not really," Draco said, rolling so that his back was against Harry's chest. He smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "Oh sure, he smacked me around a bit, but he really wasn't physically strong enough to hurt me. It's funny but, he used to be my hero." He waited for a response or insult, but Harry was silent. Draco ploughed on. "When I was a kid, he was so… powerful. He was strong, smart and wise; he always knew what to do. People always acted weird around us, but Father said they just didn't understand. It was the Malfoys against the world. He taught me self-reliance. That you don't let someone order you around for the sake of being better. Then," Draco's voice darkened, "_He_ came back, and my father turned into a snivelling worshiper. He told me it was needed, that some day we wouldn't have to bow to him. I though he cared about me, and that's why I tried to protect him and Mother by doing what Voldemort said. At the battle I saw my father for what he was. A boot-licking coward. All I am to him is a way to earn respect. I pretty much decided when Dumbledore told me that I could still help the good. That it wasn't too late. You know the rest," he finished. Harry was quiet. "Well?" he prompted.

"You told me. I didn't feel the need to comment," said Harry, almost placid. His hand had a mind of its own, and it stroked lazily through Draco's hair. Draco gave a near-purr of content, all thoughts blown from his mind as he felt Harry's fingers on his skin, scooting closer to him still. They were silent for a while, until Draco fell asleep. Harry, however, lay awake, the events of the day playing through his mind. He could see himself, as if from some invisible bystander's point of view, pressing Draco Malfoy against an alley wall and kissing him roughly. Harry closed his eyes against it, but the images continued. He opened his eyes again, and stared down at Draco, who looked almost angelic in the half light. Before Harry could stop himself, he smoothed back some hair from his forehead. The blonde smiled in his sleep.

_So, I'm… _that _way._ Harry thought, shying away from the word 'homosexual', even in his thoughts. It wasn't a complete shock, he guessed. Now that it had been brought out in the open, he figured he had always known. Like his disastrous relationship with Cho Chang. It just hadn't worked, and besides her fixation with Cedric Diggory, this was probably the reason why. He didn't even what to think about that bizarre dream involving Oliver Wood in his fifth year…

Draco gave a sigh, and Harry smiled, drifting off beside the blonde. They slept like this for what seemed hours, and Harry, now hovering between sleep and wakefulness, didn't notice when his makeshift fireplace for flooing sprang to life with emerald flame, and someone stepped out, tossing their overcoat over the back of the couch. The sleeve smacked Harry's face, and he groggily lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun peeping through his curtains. He peeked over the back of the couch, careful not to wake Draco, who stirred slightly.

"Harry I — oh my God!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Soooo, I'm finally posting this. Yay:waves little red flag: Thank you every one who reviewed, you keep me going, special thanks to Orlandoroxmysox, Len, I couldn't have gotten this far without your lunch table suggestions, and thanks to Marta, my wonderful beta, who catches my mistakes and encourages me on! You all rock, every single one of you!

Disclaimer: I am only borrowing JKR's characters to amuse my sick mind. If I did own them, you know what would be happening in the movies and books……...anyway, they are not mine. If you don't like boy/boy love, please don't tell me I'm sick and wrong. I already know that.

Chapter 3---

"Oh. My. God." Hermione dropped to box of biscuits she'd been holding and backed up until she hit Harry's bedroom door, which swung open loudly. "Oh my _God!_" she repeated, louder this time. Harry was now fully awake, and he lifted the arm that supported Draco's head, managing to wake him as well. Draco sat up slowly, then saw Hermione's eyes widening at him and Harry, who had cuddled quite close during their sleep.

"Oh dear." He said quietly, trying to detangle his legs from Harry's. "I have a feeling this is _not_ how you wanted to tell her."

"Okay, Hermione," Harry began, lifting his hands as if to calm a wild animal. "This is not, uh, quite exactly what it looks like."

"What is it, then?" she said faintly, stepping forward and crushing a chocolate chip biscuit under her shoe. She didn't seem to notice.

"Well, er, well…" Harry stuttered, "Dra—Draco wants to help the cause." Hermione goggled at them both. "Don't look at me like that, we were sleeping!"

♥♥♥

"Actually, now that I think about it," Hermione began, "It does make sense. I guess I kind of knew. You know, about you being gay and all." Harry nearly choked on the biscuit he was eating. Draco thumped him hard on the back, and his airway cleared.

"What?" said Harry incredulously. "You could tell before I could?" Draco sniggered, and Harry shot him a dirty look.

"It wasn't that hard," said Draco, leaning back in a recliner that looked as if it had been tossed in a cement mixer and resting his hands behind his head, a pale sliver of skin exposed where his shirt rode up. "You never seemed too interested in girls, and everyone heard about your Cho Chang fiasco. Even Longbottom's seeing a girl." Harry looked astounded at the blonde.

"When did _that_ happen?" said Harry sceptically.

"Hannah Abbott, last year." said Hermione with a sly grin. Harry groaned heartily.

"Did everyone really suspect?" he asked, running a hand through his hair distractedly. Hermione nodded.

"Well, all except for Ron. If ever there was a patent case of denial, it was him." Harry groaned even louder and put his head in his hands. "What?"

"I'm going to have to tell him soon, Hermione!" he said, voice slightly muffled. "He'll never speak to me again." Hermione patted his back consolingly. Draco sighed, wondering how they would make it past this obstacle, and, stretching back farther in the recliner, managed to flip himself over the back of it into a bookcase. Draco peeked over the back of chair to see that Harry hadn't even cracked a smile, though Hermione was trying not to giggle.

"So much for cheering him up," the Slytherin muttered, taking a seat on the couch next to Harry. "I'm sure he'll accept you, you'll just have to give him time to adjust." _How long that might take, I've no clue. _

"But he has to," said Hermione. Draco looked over at her. She was looking at the biscuit box on the table in an odd, unfocused way, and he knew that she wasn't necessarily talking about Harry right then. Then she stood and said briskly, "Well, I'd better be going, I've things to do." She strode to the fireplace, and promptly flooed away, the fire smouldering slightly in the grate. Draco stared after her. _Looks like she has secrets of her own_, thought Draco, turning back to Harry.

"Well, let's write that letter than, shall we?" said the blonde, trying to be cheerful. When he'd finished, Harry gave it to Hedwig, who took off from her perch and flew away.

No sooner than an hour later, where the two filled in time by playing cards with the battered Muggle deck Harry owned, the headmistress arrived by floo, stepping briskly out of the fireplace and brushing ash off her emerald-green hat. Harry stood quickly, banging his head on the lamp above the dining room table. Draco followed his lead, and the stern woman surveyed both of them, arms crossed with her wand in one hand.

"Is this… him?" she asked, staring down at Draco through her glasses. Harry nodded and she walked over to the Slytherin, briskly rolled up his left sleeve. His skin was unmarred. The woman looked at Draco curiously.

"You don't get the Dark Mark right away," Draco explained, "you have to prove yourself first. I haven't."

She nodded slowly and took a small bottle of what could only be Veritaserum out of her robes. "I think you'll understand that you'll need to agree to Veritaserum before we can trust you." Draco nodded.

"I understand." He drank the potion, and the curiously blank expression crossed his face that Harry had seen before; on the face of Barty Crouch Jr. The headmistress gestured to both of them to sit down. "Do you wish to join the Order of the Phoenix for nefarious reasons in any shape or form?" she said, her eyes boring into Draco's disturbingly blank ones.

"No," he replied, his voice monotone. McGonagall sighed, hand unclenching from her wand.

"I suppose that's good enough. How did you…?" she began, looking at Harry, then shook her head. "Never mind," she said, perhaps deciding she really didn't want to know. She stood, pointing her wand at Draco's forehead. "Draco Malfoy, will you uphold the standards and morals of the Order of the Phoenix, do what is required of you and never harm any of its members?"

"Yes," he said, sounding like the potion was wearing off.

"Then you are now a member of the Order of the Phoenix." The blonde glowed briefly, the air near him seemed to shift and change, then suddenly everything was normal. Draco grasped his right inner arm, pushing up the sleeve to see a lightly coloured tattoo of a feather, shimmering slightly. "It's only seen by other Order members," said McGonagall, answering the blonde's unasked question. She sighed again, and, shooting the both of them another curious look, she walked back over to the fireplace.

"Well, I must go, I have errands to run and cannot stay." Without further comments, she flooed away.

Harry walked away from the table to sit on the couch, leaving Draco in an uneasy silence. Draco joined him at the couch, folding his hands in his lap. The blonde looked up from the floor to the brunette, and a question bubbled up from inside him.

"So…" he began, searching for the right words, "What exactly… is our relationship? What are we to each other?" Harry smiled shyly and scooted over to run his hands up Draco's arms to rest on his shoulders. From there Harry's hands cupped Draco's face gently, looking deep into the Slytherin's eyes.

"Why don't we just see what happens, hmmm?" he breathed. Before Draco could say a word, he and Harry were chest to chest, and the blonde was dizzy from the heat and the sudden increase both of their heartbeats. The brunette leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to the other boy's, and then began to kiss him in earnest. It was much sweeter than the first time they'd kissed, Draco decided, as he ran his tongue across Harry's lower lip, savouring the taste and texture. They pulled each other closer and closer until they were almost breathing unison. The Gryffindor ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of the Slytherin's neck, smiling still through the kiss. During this time, Hedwig returned to her perch, and respectfully turned to the window while the two boys began to truly fall in love.


End file.
